


Dry Lips

by ladymcjingles



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Alternate Universe - School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Ballet, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Character's name spelled as Yuuri, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insecure Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Minor Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Preschool Teacher Katsuki Yuuri, Single Parent Victor Nikiforov, Slow Burn, Widower Victor Nikiforov, aged-down characters, i may or may not constantly misspell nikiforov as nikiforv, sorry - Freeform, yuri is viktor's 4 year old son
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-10-20 22:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10671642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymcjingles/pseuds/ladymcjingles
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri has dry lips from the Detroit winter. Mr. Nikiforov, the father of one of his more rowdy students, helps him out.





	1. Parent-Teacher Conference

**Author's Note:**

> i kid of combined the idea of "stepmom yuuri" and [this comic](http://ladymcfangirl.tumblr.com/post/158375804291/beanpots-in-my-defense-i-really-thought-this) for inspiration and My Lord. it wasn't meant to get this serious.

 

     Yuuri sighed as he opened up the document on his computer again. It was the parent-teacher conference for the end of the semester, and Yuuri was already beat. Meeting with the parents certainly wasn’t the worst part of the job, but it was simply exhausting.

     Up next was a certain _Nikiforov, Viktor_. Yuuri bit his lip thinking about what he’ll have to tell him about his 4 year-old son, Yuri Plisetsky-Nikiforov. He got into arguments with his classmates on the daily, and had already bit a kid during one this week.

     Sighing, he got up and popped his head out of his office door, letting winter cool in from the foyer. He licked his lips before announcing “Mister Nikiforov?” A man with silvery hair and a trench coat gave him a little wave with a gloved hand. Yuuri smiled, “You’re up next,” and the man got up to enter Yuuri’s office with him.

     “Please, take a seat.” Yuuri weakly smiled as he sat at his own desk, too.

     “Mr. Nikiforov, I’m sorry to tell you this, but your son isn’t getting along well with his classmates.”

     He bit his lip again before reluctantly adding: “He, uh, actually bit a kid this Wednesday.” Yuuri pushed his glasses back up his nose, mentally preparing for Viktor to go on a tirade about how his son would _never-_

     “Ah, I should’ve expected that,” He confessed with a heavy Russian accent.

     Sighing, Viktor rested his chin on his hand, arm propped on the side of the chair. “He’s been quite the angry kid, lately.”

     Surprised by the lack of yelling, Yuuri licked his lips before responding. “Oh. Well, could you give him a talk? We find the kids listen most to their parents.”

     Viktor nodded, “Yes, Yes, of course,” before giving Yuuri a knowing smile.

     Why exactly the smile was knowing? Yuuri was clueless. He racked his brain as to where he could’ve met this guy and licked his lips again. _Goddamn, I need to get some chapsti-_

     “You know,” Viktor cooed, “Licking will only make the dryness worse.” A certain breathiness about the way he spoke… Was he flirting?

     Yuuri but his lip. No way, the guy was probably married, he had a kid after all-

     “Do you want some chapstick?”

     Yuuri was going to say no, but Viktor had already snapped a small container open. He pulled off the gloves and smeared his finger around the disk of chapstick in the center of the container.

     Yuuri internally screamed as Viktor leaned over the desk, and streaked some of the gloss onto his lips with his index finger before rubbing it in with his thumb, the rest of his fingers splayed across Yuuri’s cheeks.

     When Viktor drew back, eyes still glued to his lips, Yuuri squeaked “Mister- Mister Nikiforov, do I know you?”

     Viktor’s eyes snapped back to his and he twitched. “You… don’t remember?”

     “I’m sorry,” Yuuri continued, “Could you elaborate?”

 

* * *

     About 2 years ago, Viktor and his friend Christophe were having a last hoorah before Chris went off to study abroad at Switzerland- in which Yuuri crashed into his life like a force of nature.

     Yuuri bumped into Viktor on the floor and practucally dragged him into a dance- but not one that matched the bass-heavy club music, but a sort of ballet routine Viktor was able to follow allong thanks to his old hobby.

     They held each other close when they weren’t twirling around the dance floor, whispering to each other, where Viktor learned his name was Yuuri, it was his birthday, and he thought Viktor was pretty.

     Viktor simply _had_ to lead him into the bathroom stall and give him a birthday gift- Viktor couldn't help but lick his lips, too, as he thought about it.

     “Your- uh, birthday a couple years back.” Viktor stammered, snapping back to reality.

     Yuuri visibly paled. “My 21st birthday…” He put his head in his hands and continued in a whisper, “I know this is completely unprofessional, but I don’t remember _anything_ from that night.”

     Viktor’s jaw dropped. “I’m so sorry, I wouldn’t have if I’d known-”

     “Nonono, it’s fine.” Yuuri cried, waving around his hands, “Just, what happened?”

     Viktor glanced at the clock, wanting to engage in literally anything but the situation at hand. “The other parents are waiting, I should go…”

     “Mister Nikiforov-”

     But Viktor was already standing by the door where he glanced back at Yuuri. “I’ll… I’ll call you.” Viktor whispered before slipping out of the room.

     Yuuri slumped into his chair. What the fuck just happened?


	2. Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor explains what drunk Yuuri forgot.

 

     It was about 6:00 when Yuuri was back home from the parent-teacher conference and cooking himself dinner when he heard the phone ring.

  
     He tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he continued to work. “Hello, this is Katsuki Yuuri?”

  
     “Yuuri?” A Russian voice from the other end peered.

  
     “Oh, Mr. Nikiforov.” Yuuri’s fingers drew to his lips, thinking about the goddamned chapstick. “What is it?”

  
     “I was going to tell you what happened?” Viktor explained uneasily  

  
     “Yeah, go on?” Yuuri asked as he sprinkled some oil in a pan, hoping he didn’t sound too nervous. All he's heard about his drunk self from Pichit were nightmares.

  
     “Well, we… _danced_ together and we, uh, _talked_." Viktor was making it sound a lot less romantic than it really was. "And, well, one thing lead to another and…”

     Yuuri remained silent, a permission to continue. “Well, we had some fun in the bathroom.” Viktor continued. 

  
     “Like what?” Yuuri whispered, nervously clutching the bowl he was about to pour into the pan.

  
     “Well I…” Viktor tried to think of a way to say it that didn’t sound dirty on his tongue, and gived up. “I sucked you.”

     Yuuri dropped the bowl.

     “What was that?”

     “Fuck. Sorry, I just dropped something. I just... Don’t you have a Mrs. Plisetsky-Nikiforov to worry about?”

     Viktor was silent before a moment before responding in a dark dark tone. “Not anymore.”

  
     Yuuri paled, realizing he’d just reopened a wound. “Are you… Divorced?”

     “A widower.” Viktor corrected. “Car crash, a little over two years ago…” He trailed off into a whisper.

  
     “Viktor, I’m sorry for your loss, but…” Despite wondering if it was insensitive, he continued. “That’s awfully close to when we slept together.”

  
     “I-” Viktored tried to butt in before Yuuri continued. 

  
     “Was I…” rebound wasn’t quite the right word if his wife _died_. “Was I a… Warm body?”

  
     “No, Yuuri.” Viktor whimpered. “You made me feel like I could find love again.”

  
     Yuuri almost dropped the phone, too. “Wh- what?” He sputtered, regaining a handle of the phone.

  
     “I know it was just a one-night stand for you,” Viktor continued, voice faint, “but it meant the world to me.”

  
     Yuuri was clutching onto the phone for dear life, trying to comprehend what Viktor was saying.

  
     Eventually, he managed to speak softly. “Viktor, I’m nothing special. Don’t cheat yourself.”

  
     “You’re selling yourself short, Yuuri.” Viktor insisted softly. 

  
     “Goodbye, Viktor.” Yuuri sighed as he hung up.

     The next parent-teacher conference was going to be a mess.


	3. Minako's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri simontaneously decide dancing is the best way to get their minds off each other :^)))

>  

     “Everything’s going to be _fine_ , Yuuri!” Phichit cooed. Yuuri always called him whenever he was down, his cheerfulness was just infectious, but…

     “I know that. It’s just…” Yuuri sighed, “I just don’t know what to do, Phichit...”

     “I’m sure it’ll all settle down eventually, so just find something to take your mind off of it for now, ok?”

     Yuuri glanced at the clock, leaving against the kitchen counter. It was about 6:30, and Minako’s didn’t close until 9… “Well, maybe I could dance again?” He had unofficially dropped ballet in college when studying ate up too much of his time. Shameful, it really made him feel like himself. He now had plenty of time, but he simply never got around to picking it back up again…

     Phichit gasped. “Totally! Oh, you were so wonderful in those videos you showed me. I’d love to see you dance in real life!”

     Yuuri laughed at his enthusiasm. “Maybe after I shake off 5 years of rust!”  
  
     “I will be waiting eagerly,” Phichit giggled. “The studio’s still open?”

     “Yeah, it will be for a couple hours,” Yuuri said as he picked up his keys. "Thank you so much, Phichit."

 

* * *

 

     It was about eight o’clock at night as Viktor drove through a lazy shower, which gave the street lights an ethereal glow. Little Yuri had been fast asleep for a couple hours, leaving Viktor with nothing to do with himself but go on a drive to nowhere in particular, an activity he found it calming. Maybe it was the repetitiveness, maybe it was the movement, but it usually worked.

     He thought of his wife, he thought of Yuuri, he thought of how _dumb_ he was.

      _What was I thinking? I hadn't seen him in over a year and I thought_ that _was appropriate?_ He gave a dramatic sigh as he slowed at a red light, continuing to chastise himself as he ran through what happened over and over again in his head.

     He leaned over the desk and used chapstick as an excuse to touch his lips. What the fuck?

     The stoplight turned green, and Viktor realised that driving wasn’t working. It gave him too much room to think. Was there something else?

     He remembered how he met Alla, joining high school ballet as a freshman. Nothing made him feel lighter than the dips and twirls of dance. Maybe that was what he needed.

     “Siri, send me directions to the nearest ballet studio.”

 

* * *

 

     Fluorescent lights glowed the word “OPEN," staining the rain around it red. Yuuri was gripping his umbrella as tight as he could in front of Minako’s dance studio as he mustered the courage to enter.

     When he finally, tentatively opened the door, sending a jingle that alerted Minako to his presence, she was sitting at the reception desk among scattered flyers and pens.

     “Yuuri!” Minako gasped animatedly, dropping what she was doing to lean against the counter.

     “Hey, Minako…” Yuuri winced. He’d been avoiding this moment for as long as he’d been gone. How does one explain not coming for _years_ when there wasn’t even a good reason? She’d hate him, she’d-

     “What, did you forget the way here?” Minako teased, resting her face in her hand.

     Yuuri was honestly surprised she wasn’t mad. At least, she didn’t seem to be. So he chuckled dryly despite the tightness in his chest and said: “Just got so busy, y’know?”

     “Bah, it happens all the time. I’m glad you’re back! Come on, I’ve got an empty training room over here- how’s your mom? She said your new job was going well…”

     As Minako rambled on, Yuuri flushed, realising how silly it was for him to worry. Minako was like a second mother to him, of course she wouldn’t be mad. It’s not like he dropped off the face of the Earth, they saw each other outside of the studio fairly often.

     It was fine  

     “Here ya go, kiddo!” Minako smiled, opening the door for him. “Holler if you need anything.”

     Yuuri walked in timidly, then turned around to Minako to say “Thank you.” _For not getting mad at me._

     Minako simply smiled and said “Hey, there’s nothing else I would’ve done. Just get started, ok?” Then she gently closed the door, leaving Yuuri room to breathe.

     Yuuri gave a deep sigh of disbelief at how well that went. He took of his coat, revealing a leotard underneath, and hung it up on a coatrack by the door. He felt a peace wash over him: the kind you can only feel when you’re all alone, where you can do what you love.

     After spending far more time stretching than he would’ve liked, _Lord_ was he out of practice, he finally began to dance in a light allegro, fluttering around the room on his toes. It made him feel like himself, like the anxious mess he usually was had been left behind when he put on a leotard.

     He ended his impromptu dance with an arabesque, balancing on one of his legs with the other stretched outward, his arms balancing at his sides.

     As he held the pose, catching his breath, feeling more alive than he had since, well, since Viktor brushed his thumb against his lips…

     The very same man he found himself thinking about walked into the room.

     Yuuri jolted from surprise, making him lose his balance. His arms frantically wheeled around as he fell flat on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the formating's ok!! I did it on my phone at the airport, lmao. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you've got ANYTHING to say!! they're my fuel for writing tbh

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks for my terrible sleep schedule giving me lots of time to think about aus and write


End file.
